


Children of fire

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon - Fills plot hole(s), Drama, First Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 13:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3769641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The death of Amras at Losgar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Children of fire

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

_(Do not fear, little one. We know this hurts. But do not fear. Wait. It will soon be over. Sit here, quietly, and watch the flames. Look. They are beautiful, are they not ? Look at their dance. Is it not enthralling ?)_

The fire rises around him. Red flames are leaping up, reaching up to touch him. Caress him. He sits on the wooden floor, his knees drawn before him, his back bent. Curling, trying to turn himself into a tight ball of flesh, so that the flames cannot reach him. Curling up like a frightened child. But then he lingered here to come back to her. 

_(You will find her. Just wait until the fire comes to you, and allows you to flee. Then you will pass into darkness. But you will rise again, and she shall be here, and she shall hold you tight, as she always did, when we were children.)_

He should lower his head, and the sphere would be complete. But he cannot tear his gaze from the fire. They have always been like that, moth-like children, always drawn to the light, burning their fragile wings. 

The fire crawls closer. Heavy clouds of smoke rise, surround him, and yet cannot veil the raging flames. He watches their wrathful dance ; they rise and fall, are torn and then suddenly sway, bright, yellow blue red, sparks, crackling, crackling, crack ! ling ! 

He rocks silently to and fro.

_(Do not fear. It will soon be over. One last flame, and you will go. You are not Fated ; we are. In the end, we shall envy you.)_

_(You will soon be free. Your flesh will burn swiftly, whereas we shall linger in agony. Ours will be a long, slow, painful burning. Burnt from the inside. Burnt by the memory of a greater fire, burnt by what fire remains in us. Burnt, until we have to seek the quenching of our fire ; until the fury of battle blows it out ; until the Sea drowns it ; until the Earth's fires extinguish the white flame of our soul.)_

_(Do not fear. Flesh may be burnt, but you shall be clothed again. There will be no healing for our souls.)_

He shakes.

_(Do not fear the fire, our kinsman. This terror does not become us. We always burned. We were those strange children, eaten up from the inside, with white, flaming, eyes. We were born burnt alive.)_

And, then, suddenly, the fire, possessive father, is unleashed, and rushes towards him. 


End file.
